Devil's Snare, James Potter, and Other Things
by Jessie of the Keyboard
Summary: ..That Might Kill Me.  Nessie Nott just wanted to survive her seventh year at Hogwarts. Unfortunately life -Along with a little help from devil's snare, James Potter, and her roommates- had other plans.  Next Generation Fic
1. Tuesday

**The fabulous J. K. Rowling owns it all- except for the little cliche plot and the original characters.**

As I wiped the sticky goop out of my eyes, only one thought crossed my mind; I hate James Potter, Dominique Weasley, and the entire bloody mess of their clan.

I imagined him being torn limb from limb by the giant squid. Die, Potter, Die.

That made me feel better.

I inhaled deeply, and rung some of the goo out of my hair. Ewwww. I'd be washing it out for weeks.

'Okay. Deep breaths, calm down. Unidentified goop in your hair isn't the worst thing that can happen. It's just pretty bad. Honestly, at least it's not acidic-'

"Ohmy_gawd_- her hair is smoking!" Shouted Clarine Flint, clapping her hands over her mouth in shock.

Well, that was a crude was of putting it, but yes, it had looked pretty good today- oh. Shit- she actually meant-

I shrieked, jumping and trying to get the smoking goop off of my body. It was starting to burn my skin, and the scent of scorched hair curled in my nostrils. I sobbed, hand now burning too, and resolved to hold perfectly still, so as not to get it anywhere else on me. It was slowly started to burn more. "Someone aguamenti me! Get it off! It's burning!"

"Shit." Muttered James Potter, I suppose because it was all his fault. "Sorry, Nellie," My name, coincidentally, is not Nellie. It's Nessie. "Okay- stand back- Aguamenti." I was doused in water. My skin burned even more, and it felt like the goop only thickened, constricting and clinging tighter to my body.

I reached up, and tried to swipe it off of my face. I got a bit off, but it didn't help much. I couldn't help sobbing a little harder, my throat tightening painfully. "Merlin's balls- don't use water again! Try scourgify!" I screamed, in agonized pain.

Dominique Weasley piped up, "Well you said to use aguamenti you! Here- Scourg-"

"Dom! No! You want to skin her alive?" James Potter cut in. I squeezed my eyes shut, so the goop wouldn't get in them. I heard him say something else, and felt hands pulling off my outer robes. "Blimey- these are no good anymore- burned clean through. Alright then, Nellie, I'll take you to the Hospital Wing. Tell Professor Felixir when he comes back." He pushed me on, hands on my shoulders. He was wearing his dragon-hide gloves.

I snapped at him, voice still trembling in pain; "My name is Nessie, you sod." And let him lead me out.

**Devil'sSnare,JamesPotter,AndOtherThingsThatMightKillMe,Devil'sSnare,JamesPotter,AndOtherThingsThatMightKillMe,Devil'sSnare,JamesPotter,AndOtherThingThatMightKillMe**

Okay. So, let me explain to you how that whole scene actually came to be.

My name is Nessie Nott. Yeah- like 'The Loch Ness Monster'. Very creative. I've heard it a thousand times before. It loses its hilarity after about the- wait, no. It never had any hilarity. It's stupid. I'm giving the wrong impression- I don't hate my name. I love my name; I think it's a good name. Cute and it fits me. I can't imagine having any other name. I'm just a Nessie.

That morning I woke up, like any other. I rolled out of bed with an unhappy groan, and fell with a thump to the floor, groaning even more and thrashing around a bit in anger. I was not a morning person- if I could, I'd stay in bed all day, every day. And come out at night. That was an idea- Hogwarts should have night classes. They could advertise themselves as the only vampire-friendly school in Europe.

I'd like that- I like vampires- think they're amazingly fascinating. I plan on studying them once I graduate.

You've got to admit- there's something alluring about the undead. The nocturnal thing, the feeding on the blood of mortals. Teeth. All that stuff? It's just interesting.

Anyway, back to the progress of my morning. I was on the floor, writhing and moaning, and then my darling friend Clarine Flint kicked me in the ribs and told me to 'stop complaining and get myself ready from breakfast'. She's a real gem, that Clarine. Really. I have _no_ idea why I never made friends with her. It must have been because she had a really nasty piece of spinach stuck in her teeth when I first met her at the Start-of-Term Feast. What the hell kind of eleven year old eats spinach? Sicko.

Right, so after being _lovingly_ (That's sarcasm, guys. You got to keep up with me here if you ever want to get to the part where Senor Dick-Head sets my hair aflame) kicked in the ribs by the Ever-Charming Flint, I decided to get out of kicking-rage in case she felt like coming back around for seconds. Seriously. It was a hard kick. My ribs were aching for ages after that. (And stupid Professor Longbottom wouldn't give her a pass to go to the Hospital Wing- but… well, we'll get to that when we get to it.) I hobbled pathetically, like a hobo on the verge of death crawls towards his last bottle of whiskey, to my trunk and managed to find a clean set of robes, and hobbled my way right on down to the Great Hall.

So you know how I said I'm not a morning person? Well, I'm not. But I _am _a food person. I love me some munchies. And even though I wake up later than all the other girls in the seventh year Slytherin dormitory, I'm down in the Great Hall shoveling chocolate chip waffles and bacon down my throat before any of them. (By the blessed tail of Merlin's revered beaver, I love chocolate chip waffles and bacon. And yeah. You just read that. It's not widely known that Merlin had a Beaver, but look it up. I read it in the Quibbler.) I guess it's probably because I don't have to spend hours building my own self esteem up high enough to stop looking at myself in the mirror and let a member of the male persuasion view my glorious ninety-nine-point-nine-five-two percent fake face. Seriously, girls today spend more time looking in mirrors and learning facial-transfiguration spell than they do breathing. Or something equally important- eating.

Luckily I was saved from that fate by having alarmingly high self esteem. Say it with me now people- sar-cas-m. Sarcasm. I haven't lost you yet, have I? Good. Really though- I just don't see the point. I mean, sure, boys are hot and all, but they're sort of dicks (By definition?) and it's not like they seriously care _that_ much about how we look- as long as we're not _really_ ugly or _really_ pretty. I've met some nice guys, of course… Well, I've _heard_ of some. Most of the guys in Slytherin are sort of jackassian. Except for… Well, Scorpius Malfoy's all right (He's a jackass, but it somehow works for him), and my little brother's not one- but he doesn't count. I'd beat him if he was a dick. He knows it too. My dad probably would too… and my mum… Grandad would be _so_ pleased, but none of us really listen to him anyway.

Back to breakfast- despite the fact that I may or may not have acquired several cracks in my ribs, I valiantly washed down my chocolate chip waffles and bacon with a cold chocolate milk, and slouched back in my seat to scan my eyes over the hall, slowly filling with the gems of humanity I'd come to know as my fellow students.

Not even five minutes after I'd poured my second glass of chocolate milk my favorite posse entered. That's not sarcasm- promise. My little brother, Alex, is a good looking kid, pale, brown haired like me, brown puppy-dog eyes- he looks a lot like my mum, actually. And he's best friends with Scorpius Malfoy, who is so hot that he makes Alex look like bloody hag. Naturally, being the best looking and most obnoxious, Scorpius is the ring leader of their little crew- which also includes… shit, well, I can't remember his first name. It doesn't really matter though, because everyone just calls him Monty- Montegue, in case you're curious. Don't think bad of me just because I can't recall his first name… I swear, I don't think I know a single person who doesn't call him Monty. Anyway, Alex is sort of the quiet clever one, while Scorpius is the loud, obnoxious, grossly inappropriate one (Alex told me that he walks around in the buff in the dorm room- which makes me both feel like a pedophile (It's ONLY one year difference!) and wish that I lived in there too.), and Monty is the easily angered somewhat traditional one that is always yelling at Score for being a dickhead. Occasionally the three of them are joined my Pleiome Yaxley, Monty's on-again-off-again girlfriend. Apparently they broke up last week though, because he forgot her favorite color or something like that. I love Pleiome, but sometimes she's a bit… ridiculous? Yeah. Ridiculous.

Anyway, I waved them over into the empty seats by me. I didn't really hang out with them that often- but I'm close with Alex, and we're in the same house, so we usually eat at least one meal a day together. I dunno- they can be funny.

And I guess I describe them all how they are… to me, you know, inside the circle. To the outsiders we just look… well, like all ancient pureblood families do. Most- if not all- of our parents were arranged marriages, and we all look sort of similar. The boys all have the same square jaws, broad shoulders, over-six-feet height, sharp cheekbones, and lips (Thin upper, plump bottom). The girls all have porcelain skin, arching brows, and distinctive faces. I mean- all the undiluted families have the odd ability to look alarmingly similar while also distinctly different. For example- Pleiome is distinguishable as a Yaxley by her height, and by her strong nose. Alex and I are Notts by our big eyes, brown hair, and awesomely arched right eyebrow. Scorpius is Malfoy… well, everything about him is Malfoy. Monty's all around square-ness shows he's Montegue. It's like we're all made from the same template, only with minor alterations.

Anyway- the point of that long winded description is that while we are… our true selves around each other, mostly we put on the cold stiff façade. You know, the one you learn when you're constantly being ferried around to expensive dinner parties, in which everyone dances stiffly, and everyone smiles but none of the smiles reach their eyes, and the conversation, while sometimes about important things, is never really important. When you're from the old pureblood families there are certain unspoken rules- like how we don't smile at meals, and even though I might have narrated like I was wolfing down those chocolate chip waffles and bacon, I was actually cutting them up daintily and chewing politely. And we all learn how to act like we should, without actually thinking or feeling that way.

I think that's why we all naturally gravitate towards each other. No one else quite understands the pressures of it. It's not even the pressure of our parents anymore- it's the pressure of our grandparents- and society as a whole. Scorpius is the only one of us who really breaks the mold. I have my moments, we all have brief moments of rebellion, but none of them can compare with some of the stuff Score pulls. He fights quite a lot- and back talks teachers. It's easier for him, I guess. His family was hurt so badly in the War that they sort of said to-hell-with-it after it was done. Sure, at the parties he behaves well, and he blends in perfect with us when he wants to, but we all know that Scorpius is… he's probably the best of us.

They all sat down beside me, Alec next to me, and Score in between him and Monty, like always. Alex and Monty both looked perfectly groomed, as always, but Scorpius' blond hair was ruffled, and his tie was slightly askew. That was normal. He wasn't really a morning person. "Already ate?" Asked Alex, pouring himself a cup of coffee while Monty loading his bowl with porridge.

I shrugged, "You know me. I can't wait for my food."

Scorpius leaned around Alex, to peer at me under his half-lidded eyes, smirking, "You look ravishing as _always_, love of my life." His voice was silky, the corners of his lips perfectly curled. Honestly, sometimes it's hard to believe that Scorpius Malfoy is human.

Yeah. He's _that_ good looking. "Prettied myself up just for _you_." I shot back, giving him a smirk in return. For the record- smirks are allowed under the pureblood code. So are fake smiles, the polite kind. Just not heart-felt, sincere, genuine smiles. And don't go thinking anything about me and Scorpius. I talk a lot about how pretty he is- and sometimes we might throw back flirty things, but it's not anything we really mean. Trust me on this one, guys. As much as I like to think about him naked, I don't have that sort of interest in him.

Breakfast carried on with much of the same- exchanging witty remarks, sipping coffee, pumpkin juice, and chocolate milk, and falling into our natural routine.

Alright- now you get to hear about the horrible Professor Longbottom and how he refused to give me a pass to the Hospital Wing because he hates my guts.

Herbology was my first class after Breakfast, Herbology with the Ravenclaws. Because it's a N.E.W.T level class it's gotten pretty small-ish. I think Longbottom just really dislikes me. He always has. Probably because I'm Slytherin and he's Head of Gryffindor. Whatever to him. Anyway- we were studying devil's snare, and I was trying to wrestle my plant into compliance by bear hugging the thing and letting it thrash me around like hypogriff with a ferret. The whole thing was really off, now that I think about it, and Longbottom probably should have saved me from being shaken to death by a killer plant of doom that really had no place in a school green house.

Anywho, the bear hugging had really started to hurt my perhaps-cracked ribs, so I decided to let the killer plant of doom win round one, and go explain in a very calm, level-headed manner that I'd been brutally assaulted by my roommate and might need to take an awful tasting potion courtesy of Madame Pomfrey. Of course, Professor Longbottom couldn't except that.

"No. Go back to your plant."

I couldn't help to gape at this unfairness. "But, Professor, I really need-"

He peered at he over the edge of his reading classes, "To see Madame Pomfrey. Like Last week when you had a cough? Or last month, when you'd stubbed your toe?" He gave a world-weary sigh, as if I was too childish for him to take seriously. "To be frank, I think the only injuries you ever really suffer, Miss Nott, are the ones you make in your mind. Back to work."

And that was it. I hobbled back to my killer plant of doom and let it shake me like a maraca.

After that trauma, which actually left my hair looking surprisingly good. All the shaking had left it minorly tousled, and fluffy looking. Just very nice. Any way- after that, I walked with Erica McLaggen and Clarine Flint to potions. Honestly, I dislike both of them extremely, but we've got a lot of classes together and we do share a room, so I behave cordially. Most of the time. Like I said- I don't trust Flint because she's a spinach-loving busy-body who assaults me in the morning, and I dislike McLaggen because she's a self-important bitch. Simple as pie.

N.E.W.T level Potions was made up of all houses. So included in our class was Blaise Zabini, also a Slytherin and Scorpius must-less-likable cousin, a couple of boys and a girl from Hufflepuff, two Ravenclaw boys and three girls, and several Gryffindors. Unfortunately, those Gryffindors consisted of James Potter, Dominique Weasley, Fred Weasley, and Richard Cogan.

You know, normally I try not to super hate the people that most expect me to hate, but I can't help it with these guys. I might not have mentioned it, but Weasleys are _everywhere_. Dominique is the cookie cutter Weasley- wavy red hair, an obscene amount of freckles, a distinct lack of brains. Of course, she's got that whole part-veela thing working for her, but she seems to cancel it out somehow to make her look human by never brushing that red mop and slouching, and acting all around distinctly not-pretty. Potter is equally freckly, with big hazel eyes, messy black hair, and rectangular frame glasses. He's got an attractive-athletic-dork thing. To be honest, he's cute, but I still hate him for his general dickheadedness and jackassian behavior. And, Fred. Fred is darker skinned, with a nearly-shaved head, and clear blue eyes. They're not an unattractive bunch, but they are obnoxious.

And then there's Cogan. Bloody Cogan is Head Boy- and even the Gryffindors hate him. He's obnoxious, pompous, and too loose with his detention slips. I hate Cogan.

Professor Felixir is a pale, squeaky, twiggy little man. I don't _hate_ him like I hate some people- and he doesn't dislike me like Longbottom does. I'm pretty good at Potions, actually. Typically at this level, he just writes down the text book page, and tells us to go- and then wanders around for about fifteen minutes, peering into our cauldrons, before he retreats back into his office to go over things from his other classes.

Today he had us making something that got rid of boils- just busy work really. It was a simple potion.

I sat at a table with Marianne Barbary, from Hufflepuff. She has a lot of trouble with potions sometimes and I can occasionally whisper little tips to her, and let her copy me without anyone seeing, and thus preserving my reputation.

Most of the class passed as usual. I subtly showed Marianne how I cut my snakeweed, and ignored the disapproving looks Zabini was shooting me from the next table over. Dick.

Everything was normal until I heard snickers, and some giggling, and turned around just in time to have James Potter dump the gooey contents of Dominique Weasley's cauldron on my head.

And… well, you know what happened after _that_.

**Devil'sSnare,JamesPotter,AndOtherThingsThatMightKillMe,Devil'sSnare,JamesPotter,AndOtherThingsThatMightKillMe,Devil'sSnare,JamesPotter,AndOtherThingThatMightKillMe**

**A/N:**

**Hi there... meet Nessie! Nessie Nott, eldest daughter of Theodore Nott. Older sister to Alexander Nott. I'm not sure what tehre really id to say here. This idea just popped into my head, so I decided to upload it. I'm going to try and update weekly- or at least every other week.  
Reviews are MUCHLY appreciated!**

**-Jessie  
**


	2. Tuesday II & Wednesday I

**The fabulous J. K. Rowling owns it all- except for the little cliche plot and the original characters.**

By the time we actually reached the Hospital Wing I think I'd lost several layers of skin, and knew there were some serious holes in my uniform. I was nearly delirious from the pain- babbling to Potter about how I hoped he was eaten alive by killer nifflers, or something like that. I don't really remember that well. It was so bad that I wasn't even able to think anything witty. And I'm always able to think witty things.

Potter had to juggle tasks, trying to keep me unright while also attempting to open the door, and honestly, he was grunting like I'm actually heavy. I mean, I'm not _small_, but I'm not that big either! It was mildly offensive. But he got the door open, and promptly almost dropped me. "Albus? What are you doing here? What happened to your _eye_?"

Seriously? Dying over here. You know, because _someone_ (annoying jackassian dickheaded jerk) dumped an acidic potion of my head? Yeah. I think the reason for his scrawny little Potter/Weasley-spawn brother being in the Hospital Wing could have waited until I _wasn't_ on the brink of death? Yes? Thanks. Anyway, Potter Junior's unmistakabley annoying voice piped up; "He just bloody hit me out of-"

"Oi! _You_ hit _me_ first!"

Wait- I knew that voice. "Scorpius?" I moaned, eyes still closed, but reaching out my hands for him.

I heard several intakes a breath. Seriously? Had they not even seen me before? I was practically on top of Potter! "_Nessie_? Holy- What happened to _you_?"

"Don't touch her! It's acidic- you stupid Slytherin git-" Snapped Jackassian-Elder-Potter, as he guided me to a rather uncomfortable chair. "Madame Pomfrey! Help!"

And honestly, I don't remember much after that. I remember Madame Pomfrey wiping all the goo off- Which was very painful, and Scorpius holding my hand while I groaned and had Pomfrey spreading skin-regrowing blam all over me, I remember her helping me into a loose-fitting night gown, and I remember her asking what happened. "Tripped- spilled potion- uhhnnnn." I'd managed, and heard Jackassian-Elder-Potter breathe a sigh of relief. Bastard owes me one.

I had to stay overnight, predictably. It didn't take long before I fell asleep, even though it was only probably two-thirty at the time. When I woke up again, and could actually open my eyes, it was dark out, and the curtains of my bead were drawn around me. I could only hear the sound of my own breathing, so I guessed that Scorpius, Jackassian-Elder-Potter, and Potter Junior had all been dismissed.

I was grateful for that. Well- I was a little bit sorry that Socrpius wasn't here with me anymore, to assure me that the regrown skin wasn't completely hideous (When a guy like Score tells you you're pretty, honestly, there's no way to feel shitty about yourself), but overall, I preferred being alone. Not all the time- but at night at least I did. Maybe that's why I took such issue with my roommates. I'm a really light sleeper, I wake up every time someone gets out of bed, or sneezes (Unless I'm really really exhausted.). I sat up, eyes adjusting to the darkness quickly, and running a hand through my hair.

I'd expected it to be singed, or matted, but I guess Madame Pomfrey took care of that for me too. Thank goodness. I think she might have even made it a bit longer- maybe thicker too. Nice of her. I shouldn't really be surprised- I'm her best customer. I just…. Tend to be in the Hospital Wing a lot I guess. Most of my teachers think I'm a big faker. Pomfrey thinks I just tend to blow things up in my head a lot bigger than they actually are. 'Exaggeration'- pah- I stand by my original statement on the subject of last week's cough. It was the early stage of pneumonia- if I hadn't gotten treatment, I might have literally hacked a lung out. Look it up- it's happened before.

Well. Don't look it up, because I'm not actually _sure_ that it's happened before… It just seems very likely.

Alright- sometimes I _do_ exaggerate a bit. But I really do get hurt a lot too. I've broken seven bones since I came to Hogwarts- and I don't even play Quidditch! I suppose I'm just not good at… walking? Anyway, Alex teases me about it a lot. Because he never trips or anything. Damn perfect golden boy.

I slid back my bed hangings and looked out into the dark Hospital Wing. This place felt almost more familiar than my own dormitory, the rows of sanitary white beds, almost glowing in the dim blue-tinted night. I examined the skin on my hands- having been regrown. It looked just like my old skin- perhaps a couple of shades paler (Which I would have claimed impossible just this morning), but just as smooth and flawless. Good. It wouldn't do for me to start getting pimples.

Still- I couldn't help looking at it and remembering the way it had been burning from the goop. I ran my fingertips over the smoothness of my palm. This morning I had calluses. Now my hands were soft, and smooth. I couldn't help but hate it. They didn't feel like mine. Grandfather would no doubt be pleased, of course. He'd always told me that my hands were too rough for a proper lady's.

In case I didn't mention it, my dad's father is sort of a…. pureblood elitist. He was all into the whole 'We inbreed, therefore we are.' thing. Whenever Score and Monty come for a week during the summer, he tries to fix me up with Score. And I know he's tried to talk Dad into talking to Mr. Malfoy about something. Lucky for me Dad isn't into the whole elitist thing. I mean, he pretends to be, like pretty much all of the other purebloods of his generation, but he's way past caring. He'd rather me be happy than marry into another old pureblood family. Mum too. Bless their hearts. Luckily, Grandfather will kick it soon and we'll be able to stop pretending to entertain the idea of Score and I getting married.

There are so many reasons why that marriage wouldn't work out. One; We'd rip each other's faces of after about a month? Two; I'd force him to be my sex slave (Which, as fun as it sounds, wouldn't make for a healthy marriage.). And three; Score swings his bat on the other side of the fence.

You know. Plays for the other team. Is riding the rainbow train. All that.

So yeah. The only way a union between the Nott and Malfoy families could be made would be for Alex to tap that. Well- I've got the feeling _Score'd_ be the one doing the tapping, and if he did I'd be morally obligated to kill him. Plus- Alex _isn't_ riding the rainbow train (I have no idea _why_, when he gets to watch Score walk around naked all the time). So it just wouldn't work out.

Let me take this brief moment of silence to point out that it's okay for me to sexually objectify Scorpius because Scorpius sexually objectifies the world. Seriously, it's part of the reason Monty wants to strangle him. Monty, Alex, Mimi-that's Pleiome-, and I all know about the whole gay thing. I mean, maybe more people know, but we're the ones I know of. It's not really a secret, but it's not really widespread either. Probably because Scorpius does a lot of snogging girls. His parents know- and his grandparents.

God, he has the most awful coming out story. But we're not going to get into that. Ask him about it, if you really want. I'm not entirely sure I'll be able to stop laughing long enough to tell it.

It ended with his mother sobbing about how he didn't trust her enough to let him into his life, and his dad mentally scarred/confused about where a fourteen year old bloke gets skin mags. I think it was probably the only time Scorpius had the dignity to be ashamed of himself.

Back to the story of my life: After another look-over in the morning, Pomfrey sent me to breakfast, telling me that I was right as rain, and would be perfectly okay, thank goodness.

She'd given me my uniform, all mended and fixed up, so I put it on, and pulled my hair up into a pony tail, and left the Hospital wing with my book bag over my shoulder (someone must have dropped it off for me) and feeling refreshed. I'd never gone to sleep again after I woke up at what I now guessed to have been two in the morning, so I felt fresher and less grumpy than most mornings.

Alex did not look particularly fresh when he came charging into the Great Hall, bags under his eyes and his hair uncharacteristically mussed. He looked… Completely unacceptable, and I think his shoes were on the wrong feet. Scorpius and Monty were lagging behind, hands shoved deep in their pockets, shoulders hunched, and eyes on the ground. They looked like goons of some sort. I barely had the time to even register Pleiome's presence before the ridiculously-tall-and-gorgeous blond shoved Alex out of the way so that she could throw herself at me and started kissing me all over the face.

"Nessie! Oh, thank heavens! Scorpius told us that you were burned all over- that you were scarred beyond recognition- that you might die!" She whispered, blue eyes wide and focused on me. I could swear I saw tears.

Like I mentioned yesterday. Pleiome is a bit… ridiculous.

Scorpius sat down next to me flipping, looking suitably uninterested and nonchalant. "No- I said she'd come in with some sort of acidic goop all over her that was burning her hair and skin, and that everything would probably be fine." He corrected lazily, as if he didn't care if I really was fine or not.

Alex sat on my other side and glared at me accusingly, those puppy-dog eyes boring into my very soul- as if he could rip me apart with just the gaze of his adorable big brown eyes. Merlin, even when he was being threatening I found my little brother cute as a puppy. That either says something very sad about me, or something very sad about him. "You were out cold when I came to see you- and Score said something about Potter-"

I waved my hand dismissively; "It was nothing. Just an accident in Potions. Potter took me to the Hospital Wing is all. Still a slimy git though. Jackassian- oh, sorry."

"Ness- I've heard the word jackass before."

"_Shh_, Alex. You'll ruin your puppy-dog image. I feel dirty swearing in your presence. Cover you ears."

He did.

"-jackassian pompous dickhead." I finished, and nodded so that Alex knew to uncover his ears.

He was rolling his eyes. But don't worry- he'll thank me one day for preserving his innocence. Poor little Alex. So what if he's only a year younger? It's still my job as his older sister to shield him from the harsh reality and crude words.

Don't judge me.

Mimi was calmed down, and everyone was back to normal. You know. The whole 'cut-carefully-stick-delicately-with-fork-lift-to-lips-gracefully-chew-daintily' routine. Standard procedure. Sometimes I wonder how we must look to people outside of our circle. Do they see the little slip ups that we see? Are they attuned to the subtle facial twitches that we see as full-on emotional outbursts? Like the was Alex's lips twitched upwards a little bit, that showed me how glad he was that it wasn't serious. How Monty's eyes were hooded- and he was quieter than usual- that showed he'd already started missing Mimi. The way Mimi's eyes kept flicking over to him, that showed me she was missing him too. The way Scorpius sat next to me even though he usually didn't, and how he wouldn't look at me, and the way he hadn't smirked or flirted at all- showing that he really had maybe cared a bit that everything had turned out fine with the whole acidic goop thing.

I don't think other people notice- if they did they wouldn't think us as icy and stoic as they do.

I seem to think about the whole pureblood and Slytherin thing a lot at breakfast, don't I? Yeah. I should probably stop that.

I was stirred out of my deep thought by a mass of red sweeping across the Great Hall, near the Gryffindor table. At first I thought maybe Bowen Finnigan had accidentally set fire to himself again (It happens surprisingly often. Idiot Gryffindor.), but then, due to the lack of shouting and screaming, I took a second glance and recognized that it was actually just the Weasley-Potter clan come to breakfast.

Jackassian-Elder-Potter, Potter Junior, and Dumb-As-Rocks-Weasley(That would be Fred.) were easy to spot. They all stood out like sore thumbs, with their black hair, and on Fred's part, also his dark skin. The rest I had to work to pick out. There was Girl-Potter, one of the shorter ones being only in her fourth year, and with her hair tightly braided. And there was Dominique- who I had yet to come up with a reference for, after six years of hating her. And Annoying-Brat-Weasley, also known as Hugo. And then there were the Annoyingly-Different-Twins-Weasleys. The Miniture-Weasley- that was Luis, because he was only a first year (Would their reign of terror never end?). And then there was Should-Be-A-Pureblood-Weasley.

Which is codename for Rose Weasley. Normally I wouldn't say any Weasley should be a pureblood, but she definitely warrants it. She's got the looks for it- the elegant-ness. Other than the red hair and freckles she looks more related to Pleiome than she does to the rest of the Weasley clan. Even her brother- Annoying-Brat-Weasley. But of course her attitude is still complete Typical Weasley behavior, so it doesn't really matter.

Damn gingers.

Even though there is a general sense of dislike between the Weasley-Potter clan and myself, and I think they're all jackassian prickheads, we typically don't pay that much attention to each other at meal times. The great hall is like a neutral zone. Normally there's nothing more than a known sense of animosity- and the occasional witty banter ended with or followed by a little spat and/or a lack-wit prank pulled by the gingers(With the addition of J-E-P, P-J, and D-A-R-W) even outside of the Great Hall.

This morning, after they'd all settled down and started eating, and I had returned to my own meal, I looked up again to find Jackassian-Elder-Potter staring at me. It wasn't even a glaring sort of stare it was a 'I can't figure you out and I'm trying really hard' sort of stare. A confused one, with his dorky glasses slightly askew, and his brows furrowed slightly, so that there was a little wrinkle in between them- and I really shouldn't be paying close enough attention to notice that from this far away. I looked away quickly, attempting to engage Monty is a riveting conversation about his chocolate frog card collection (The use of the term 'riveting' is used very lightly here. _Very_ lightly.). Only when I looked up again, J-E-P was still staring at me with that dopey look.

No one else had noticed, thank Merlin's blessed beaver's tail, not even his family, or the douche bag Blaise Zabini, who had taken a seat just across from me at the table and over who's absurdly broad shoulder Potter now had to crane his neck to see me around. What a bloody idiot- why was he looking at me like that?

I decided to meet his eyes head on, with my best glare. I was channeling all my hate into this glare.

Giant squid ripping him to pieces. Devoured by rabid nifflers. Die, Potter, die.

"Nessie, are you choking on something?" Alex asked me in a concerned voice, breaking through my Potter hate-fest and glaring tactic. "You're face is all red and I think you've gone a bit cross-eyed."

Damn you, Jackassian-Elder-Potter- that's low, making me so angry that I go red and cross-eyed while trying to shoot hate beams through my eyes at you during breakfast. Obviously he knew me too well- knew how to penetrate my mind and make me angriest.

That _bastard_.

"Seriously, Nott? Stop making googoo eyes at Potter." Snapped Monty.

Googoo eyes? GOOGOO EYES? Didn't Monty know what a proper red-faced-cross-eyed-hate-beam-glare looked like? I nearly choked on my own spit. "I was trying to shoot _hate beams_!" I sputtered at him, shooting him a hate beam.

To my credit, he did flinch.

Googoo eyes my perfectly shaped arse.

* * *

**Seriously. Review? I'd love to know how I'm doing. It'd be super nice.**


	3. Wednesday II

**The fabulous J. K. Rowling owns it all- except for the little cliche plot and the original characters.**

I had first bell off, so I decided to tail Jackassian-Elder-Potter after breakfast. Yes, tail. Not stalk. Stalking is for people with creepy alterior motives. I had none of those- I just… wanted to find a way to tell me never to stare at me again. Because it made me seriously angry and ruined my entire breakfast. Selfish bastard. Besides- I wasn't even really sneaking that much. I just sort of followed him. The halls were crowded so I just sort of blended in. It was hard to keep my eye on him though. None of his ginger relatives were with him, so it wasn't as easy to spot him.

Anyway, I was sure he didn't have a clue. I blended in just fine too. I mean, my hair was just a plain brown. Non-distinguishable.

After about five minutes of following him through the halls I came to the realization that I had absolutely no clue where he was going. Did he have a class first bell, or was he off as well? Where was he _going_? Where was his posse? Usually he was followed everywhere by at least three Gryffindors- Dumb-As-Rocks-Weasley, Dominique-Weasley, and Finnigan. (Yeah, the one that tends to set fire to himself.) But none of them were with him, and he had his hands shoved in his pockets, hair looking all stupid and messy. Really, he was so self absorbed with himself that even if I was the most conspicuous stalker- I mean _follower_- in the world he'd be too caught up in ruffling his own hair to even notice-

"Why're you following me?" I jumped from the sound of the voice in my ear, goosebumps raising on my arms.

Naturally, I whirled around- and was nose-to-nose with Potter.

But- he was... I looked back over my shoulder. Apparently I'd been following a particularly disheveled Ravenclaw. Damn Jackassian-Elder-Potter. He was craftier than I gave him credit for. Sneaky little devil. He dragged me into a side corridor without anyone noticing us. "How did you know?" I asked, angry.

He quirked an eyebrow at me, lips twitching, and fixing me with a 'seriously now?' sort of look. "You're not exactly inconspicuous. You're at least three shades paler than everyone else."

"Oh," Conspicuous? Me? Never. "Yeah well, I haven't broken it in yet- it's new. Some dickhead poured acid on me yesterday." A jackassian one. With hair so messy that it personally offended me. Sure- Score sometimes let his hair get a little mussed, but Potter's stuck out at all angles. And the freckles that were dusted across his nose and cheeks were annoying. Sure, some girls seemed to think them cute but it really just made him look like even more of a cocky bastard.

Stupid Weasley-Potters and their freckles.

He didn't even have the dignity to look ashamed, just looked at me with the same focused confusion he had over Breakfast. "Why didn't you tell Pomfrey?"

Was that what it was all about? I glared back at him. "I'm seventeen years old- I don't tattle." I answered. I hadn't even thought about telling on him- it just seemed stupid, after all. I mean, he clearly hadn't known that the potion was acidic. He had meant to annoy me, but burn my epidermis off.

"But you're a Slytherin." He muttered, as if that was all that I was. A little stereotypical Slytherin, all boxed in- simple as that.

What did he know? Nothing. None of us even hated muggleborns anymore. Our grandparents might still, and a couple of our parents, but those old prejudices had died out soon after Voldemort.

Now it seemed like we were the ones being prejudiced against. And Potter was only making me angrier. "Yeah. I'm Slytherin. So what?" I spat at him, eyebrows raising challengingly.

He stared at me blankly. "You should jump at a chance to get me in trouble."

I pushed him out of my way and stomped off. "Don't stare at me anymore. Fucking creep."

After that I walked as quickly as I could without drawing attention to myself, back down to the dungeons, bookbag strap cutting into my shoulder, mind buzzing with fury. What did he know? God, what an asshole. I mean, I've always known that he was.

"Hi Nessie."

Okay, that voice wasn't familiar. It was a quiet, sweet sort of voice, I looked around, and caught sight of Marianne Barabary, the girl from Potions. It was odd- I mean, I helped her out in Potions, but we never _talked_. I mean, come on. She's a Hufflepuff. I blinked at her in surprise. "Oh. Um." Oh, um? Come on, Nessie, collect your wits. You don't stumble over words. You're a Slytherin. "Hi, Marianne."

She smiled, and I realized that Marianne is actually really cute. You know, she's short and plumpish, with big brown eyes and a lot of freckles. Like a teddy bear. "I'm glad you're okay- someone said that Madame Pomfrey had to grow back your entire epidermis."

Awww. She reminds me of Alex sort of. Only female. With Freckles. And curly hair. And Hufflepuff. Alright- so it's really just the eyes. The puppydog eyes. I'm a sucker for them. "Fact, actually. But it all turned out okay. Clearly." I smiled politely, adjusting the strap of my bookbag so it didn't cut so much into my shoulder.

Poor, naive little Marriane, she was smiling now. It made me feel almost awkward, how genuine and sweet it was. I flinched a little bit. "I'm glad- I was really worried. Managed to finish the potion on my own, though. Thanks for helping me."

I diverted my eyes away from her. "No problem. Uhm. I really need to go. I'll see you later, Marianne." and I ran for it. Well- walked briskly.

I felt almost dirty, watching her smile and be so sweet. I mean... I guess it's hard to explain. I wasn't a bad person, but it felt wrong smiling and talking with someone so innocent when you knew that your half of things was fake. It was best to just walk away.

Poor Marianne with her puppydog eyes. I should introduce her to Alex. They'd get along. They could get married and bear me puppydog-eyed nieces and nephews. How adorable.

By the time I got back down to the Dungeons I was slightly winded, and ready to flop down in the Common Room and lounge for a bit. It was quiet, mostly empty, and more peaceful than usual. No giggling girls, or snickering boys. Just the sounds of quills scratching against parchment in the green-tinted light of Dungeons.

Some people think they're cold and unwelcoming- but I've never had that problem. They're no more cold and unwelcoming than Nott manor- where I grew up. It's been in the family for centuries and centuries. I suppose when you grow up in large foreboding places, it's the small cozy ones that tend to catch you off guard. The high ceilings and dim lighting of the Slytherin common room had no affect on me. They felt like home.

I'd nearly dozed off by the time the bell rang, signaling that my free period was done for, and I now had to hurry myself along to Care of Magical Creatures.

Unfortunately, Potter and his crew were also in that class. Honestly, why would he want to take something like Care of Magical Creatures? What purpose did it serve for them? Obviously for me it made sense. I wanted to research all sort of magical creatures after graduation. I'd already been in contact with Newt Scamander- a well known expert on them. He wrote all of my five favorite books. I sent him a paper I wrote when I was in fifth year. I didn't actually expect anything back. I mean- I was just a fifteen year old kid that wanted to live the life of her hero- you know, being able to learn more about their living patterns, feeding habits, environment, mating behavior. Those sorts of things. But he did write back, and said he enjoyed the paper, and asked if I planned on any further research opportunities, beyond my Hogwarts education. So… we started corresponding, irregularly. Over my last summer holiday he'd introduced me to some of his connections at a dinner party. I had interviews set up over Winter Holiday with the Head of The Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

I couldn't wait. (Although my ultimate goal was to become a Magizooligist- everyone's gotta start somewhere.)

So, even though Potter, Weasley, Weasley, and Finnigan were in my Care of Magical Creatures class, it was my absolute favorite. Mostly I ignored them and focused on Hagrid/ whatever creature we were learning about. It wasn't so hard, seeing as I loved the subject, and the animals fascinated me.

The hard part was being the only person that wasn't a Gryffindor who thought the class was a joke.

The air was crisp out on the grounds, not yet cold, but seeing as November was running its course it had the edge of chill- the warning of winter. It was actually warm considering that, probably eight or nine degrees. Enough for me to have wished I'd gotten on my tights. (Yes. I wear tights in the winter. Why? Because at some point in the last twenty years Hogwarts decided it was a good idea to change the uniform from all robed into something more modern and progressive- grey trousers for the boys, and grey knee-length pleated skirts for the girls, complete with button-up white blouses, ties with our house colors, and outer robes to cover it all up. It's all well and good for the lads, but us girls are forever getting cold shins and knees, even with the thicker robes and cloaks we wear during the winter. My solution: tights. Shut up. They're fashionable tights.)

They were already all there, huddled together in their little knot, talking and snickering and being merry. I walked on past them, holding my head up and refusing to look at them. I just did the only useful thing my grandfather had ever taught me- looked as if I thought they were beneath me. It might've helped a bit that they _were_ beneath me.

I mean, come on. Contents of my skull: one frontal lobe, one parietal lobe, one occipital lobe, one temporal lobe, on cerebellum; total sum: one brain. Contents of their skull: numerous fluffs of pocket lint, and undetermined number of pages from 'Witch Broomstick?', and several goldfish left over from last nights dinner; total sum: diddly-squat. That was why I was leagues better than them.

I swung my book bag off of my shoulder and set it down on the ground beside my feet while we waited for Hagrid.

I should probably explain about Hagrid. He's half giant, apparently. But you wouldn't know it by- well, you _would_ know it by looking at him, he's huge- what I mean is that he's not how you'd think I half giant would be. He's a big softie. And he knows more about magical creatures than most anyone I've ever met, save maybe Newt Scamander himself. Unfortunately he's also a bit overzealous, and sometimes brings in animals that are… a bit more than we anticipate. But I honestly think he's a good teacher. At least we're never bored, right?

Apparently he didn't have anything horrifically exciting for us that day- but that didn't mean it wasn't pleasant. Hagrid brought out three winged horses- Granian he told us. They were all different variations of gray, with the same light build- like the Arabian horses my mother kept in our stables at home on the manor grounds. Wedge-shaped heads, compact bodies, and a high tail carriage. I was mesmerized.

We'd seen Thestrals before, and I thought them quite gorgeous as well (When I was ten years old my mother's mother died in St. Mungo's while we were visiting her.), but they'd also been strange. These had an air of etherealness, but they didn't seem as alien. The bodies were familiar- familiar as the horses I'd grown up with, but with the addition of wings- wings that fit so perfectly with them I couldn't even think that they didn't belong there. It didn't even occur to me. Even the diddly-squat-for-brains Gryffindors didn't have a snicker because they were so beathless.

"Beautiful, en't they?" Hagrid asked me, seeing the glint in my eyes. He handed me the leadlines for three, to keep them calm while he spoke.

I nodded, staring at them unabashedly and sticking out my hand, palm up like my mother had always taught me to do with horses. "My mother keeps two Arabians at home- just regular horses. They're beautiful too, but…" I left the sentence off, unable to stop the upturning of my lips as a dappled gray mare

"But it en't the same, eh?" He asked, and then winked at me.

Hagrid likes me. It was a bit touch and go at the beginning, with me being in Slytherin, but eventually I won him over.

He never stood a chance really. I'm very charming.

Alright, no. It was more the way I loved the critters- and the way I didn't complain about dirty work, and told the other Slytherins to shut their gobs when they _did_. And even more than that, the way the critters liked me. I felt more like an assistant in this class than I did a student.

So while he was telling the group of Gryffindors about winged-horses of the Granian breed, which were only classified as XX by the Ministry, I was running my free hand over the muscle of the dapple gray's neck, sifting my fingers through her mane. Beautiful.

"A'right, Nessie, bring 'em o'er here." Hagrid called to me, waving me over with a saucepan sized hand.

I did so, leading the three Granians over gently, coaxing them with clicks of my tongue, and little whispers. They followed easily enough, pawsing the grass nervously, and shifting feet. The Gryffindors didn't have the same calm I did, and horses- winged or not- can sense it when a person isn't calm. Anything but calm can agitate some breeds, and clearly these, although similar to my mother's Arabians in appearance, were not so like them in temperament. The horses I knew hadn't even been agitated by over-eager children.

"Give the flea-bitten gelding to Bowen an' Dom, he's the calmest." Hagrid instructed, stepping out of the way so that I could hand them the leadline.

Finnigan stepped back, "I don't want to get fleas!" he protested.

I rolled my eyes, "It's a color, idiot," I spat, pointing out the tiny flecks of darker gray on the gelding's coat. "Fleabitten gray," I pointed to the dappled mare, "dapple gray," and to the solid-coated mare, "just plain gray. Got it?" And I shoved the lead into Dominique's hands.

To her credit, she grinned at me.

"All righ', all righ', calm down, Nessie-" Insert cow joke here. "An' the plain to James an' Fred, I guess. You keep a hold'a that dapple- she's lookin' a bit antsy." I nodded, and handed Potter the lead for the plain mare, keeping my eyes down from him and leading my mare a bit away. "Now make friends with 'em. Should be easy 'nough. Just be real quiet and gentle like, and be nice to 'em."

Gryffindors calm and gentle? That was a joke, right?

He brought out buckets of carrots and sugar cubes, and after that it was pretty easy to win over the horses, even for the idiots of the group (ie: everyone except Hagrid and myself.). After half an hour, Hagrid came up behind me, grinning like a mad man. "Yeh should try ridin' her."

I whirled around to face him. "No. I mean- just no."

A little insight to the world of Nessie; the one thing she hates more than an idiot is a height. And riding a winged horse typically involves heights.

"Aw, come on, Nessie, give it a try." Hargid insisted, being the well-intended half-giant that he was.

"No, I really, really-"

"I'll take her. I mean, if she's scared."

I whirled around; eyes narrowed, "I'm not _scared_- I just-"

"Come on then," Grinned Jackassian- Elder-Potter.

The Gryffindors were all grinning at me expectantly. They thought I wouldn't do it.

If there's one thing I hate more than heights, it's proving people like them right. "I'm driving," I told him, "and we're taking the dapple." I ran my fingers over her shoulders, where the wings began, blue-gray perfect feathers. They were soft to the touch.

Hagrid gave my shoulder a pat that made my knees buckle. "Al righ', now jus' be careful o' her wings, and climb on up there. Easy as nothin'." He explained, and stepped back.

Getting on a horse was decidedly harder when there was no saddle to grab at. I gripped her withers, and urged her to budge hr wings over a bit, but it was still a bit difficult. Until Potter grabbed me from behind and gave me a lift. "Thanks." I muttered, not sounding very thankful at all, while I tried to get situated on her back. It wasn't very comfortable at all. I tucked my legs under her folded wings and reached down, offering my hand to Potter.

He clasped my forearm and hoisted himself up behind me, shifting uncomfortably. "You know how to ride one of these things?" He asked.

"Not exactly." I answered, before digging my heels into her side and grabbing onto her mane. Potter instinctively grabbed onto my middle as the mare jolted into movement. I flinched and tried to ignore it, focusing on the bunching and release of her muscles, and the jolts of her hooves hitting the grass. And when she'd felt that she'd gained enough moment, I felt her hindquarters bunch, and spring,her wings unfurling, catching the air underneath them, and bringing us upwards.

I squealed and clung onto her mane tighter, clenching my eyes closed. I would not look down. I would not look down. I could hear Potter's laughter in my ear, his arms still locked around my waist, his chest pressed against my back. "This is amazing! Isn't it?"

So amazing I wanted to puke. I think I'd left my stomach back somewhere near Hagrid's hut.

But as long as I kept my eyes closed it wasn't so bad, the beating of the wings wasn't so different from the beat of her hooves. I could still feel her muscles. It wasn't at all like flying a broomstick, much better than that. "Nott! Open your eyes or you'll crash us! Come on- you said you were driving!" Potter yelled.

Fuck, I had said that. So I forced my eyes open, the chilled air stung them, and hurt my face. Tears welled up in them from it, but at least that meant I didn't have the attention span to focus on the height. I nudged her left side with my heel, and he veered left, smooth and lovely. I had to agree with Potter a little bit. It was sort of amazing. We soared over the lake, and back towards the castle, and when I tugged her mane gently upwards she beat her wings harder, and lifted us up higher, above even the Astronomy Tower.

"So why didn't you tell?"

I whipped my head around, eyes narrowed. "Seriously? You're not over this yet? Look, if me being a decent human being bothers you so much, I'll march up to McGonagall's office and tell her the truth, really, it's no skin off my-"

"No!" Potter said hurriedly, "No- I just- I don't _get_ you."

I turned my face forward again, and nudged the mare a bit to the right, back towards Hagrid's hut. "I'll try to be more two dimensional then," I piped, in a fake voice, turning back around so he could see me bat my eyelashes at him, "I mean, anything to help you better understand my shallow Slytherin motives."

He glared at me, looking annoyed. "Fine. Point taken." Clearly it really hadn't been. "Can you tell your boyfriend to stay away from my little brother, by the way? Albus doesn't get into fights." His voice was definitely annoyed now, with a bit of an edge, and- wait.

Rewind.

Boyfriend?

"Scorpius?"

"Yeah, he-"

"Merlin's blessed beaver- Scorpius is _not_ my boyfriend." I nearly shouted. Now, if he was I'd be having a lot more wild kinky sex than I was in the habit of having. You know, provided he wasn't scared of by my lack-of-certain-parts.

"Everyone says you two're practically engaged- just tell him to stay away from Albus. Merlin had a beaver?"

Normally I jumped on the opportunity to discuss Merlin's beaver, but seeing as Hagrid was waving us in, I had to focus on landing my pegasus.

Landings are a lot bumpier than take offs- and I probably would have fallen off if it wasn't for the way I was clinging to her mane. Potter dismounted first- and offered me his hand to help me down, I kicked it away and slid off by myself. Right, focusing on the whole Scorpius-boyfriend-thing. "We're not- ew. Ew. I mean, I want to see him naked, but ew."

"Wait- what did you just say?" Asked James, looking really confused and slightly disgusted.

I raised my eyebrows at him, "As if you haven't thought about Scorpius Malfoy naked at some point in your life too."

"I have!" Piped Dominique Weasley from ten feet away, feeding a happy looking winged-horse.

Right- conversation is no longer private. "I never have or will date Scorpius Malfoy. Nor will I ever be engaged to him. I'll also probably never see him naked, sadly."

"I didn't know girls were so sexually objectifying." Muttered Fred 'Dumb As Rocks' Weasley.

Okay, like I said- it's okay when it's Scorpius, because-

"Scorpius Malfoy sexually objectifies the world. It's okay to talk about him like that, " Explained Dominique.

Woah. Weird.

* * *

_Thanks for the support guys! it means a lot to me!_


	4. Friday

**The fabulous J. K. Rowling owns it all- except for the little cliche plot and the original characters.**

"Sooo, Score."

He looked up from his book and lazily raised an eyebrow at me. "Sooo, Nessie." _And_, back to the book. Better be bloody good, for him to prefer it to me.

I scooted closer, sticking my face in his way and resting my head on his book so he had to look at me. "Why'd you get in a fight with Potter Junior?" I tried to make it sound like I superduper didn't care, voice light and playful.

I think he probably saw through that.

I saw the little twitch in his façade, just a tiny little crumple. Something in his eyes shifted, his eyebrows furrowed for just a moment, his lips turned downward before straightening out again. "He hit me first." He said, and flicked the side of my head.

"Why?"

"Because I told him his grandparents were poor, and lived in a box." He said simply.

Well that was sure original, Scorpius. Real good insult there. Way to take a leaf out of your dad's book. I flicked his nose in return. Normally Scorpius was better at insults than that. Something must have shaken him up. "And why did you tell him that?" I asked again, voice a little bit quieter now.

He looked away, and shrugged.

"Score…?"

"He said something about my grandparents, and, you know. That stuff."

Yeah, I know. That stuff. That stuff the people in our little group never talked about because it was stupid, and we wanted to forget about it, and we were tired about not being able to walk down a street without somebody whispering about a person our grandparents had hurt, or killed. As if it was our fault. "Bastard. We should break into Gryffindor Tower and beat him up again."

That made him smile a little. "Sure, that'd go over really well."

"Seriously!" I grinned up at him, "You can take Potter Junior, I'll take Annoying-Snotnosed-Brat-Weasley. We can beat the snot out of them, I bet." It sounded fun, no?

He ruffled my hair affectionately, "You added on 'snotnosed'?"

"Oh yeah," I nodded, "I saw a huge boogey up there at dinner last night. Super snotnosed." I sat up then, scooting away from him a bit and presuming the 'stick-up-arse' position that was generally accepted as the appropriate way for a Slytherin to sit. Scorpius had no such need- he lounged lazily, legs stretched out in front of him, slumped backward, glorious golden locks all ruffled.

How did he manage to look so un-Slytherin while also looking _so_ damn Slytherin? It was a conundrum. And impressive.

He didn't resume reading though- just as well, it was only a comic book- instead quirking one eyebrow at me. "So what about you and James Potter? Care to share?" He looked like such a cocky bastard right now- Maybe that's how he managed to look so damn Slytherin despite it all- because he _was_.

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Oh, puh-lease. James Potter is so below my radar." I tried to act flippant. Damn it- why would he even ask that? What was it with James Potter all of the sudden? I typically didn't even talk with the kid that much- for the past couple of days it seemed like everyone thought Potter and I were about to seriously have a final showdown or something- I mean, the guy was a right git, but most of my issues arose with the other Gryffindors- which was pretty much his entire family… I mean, was there a Gryffindor that Potter _wasn't_ related to? Well- Finnigan. And Cogan. And the Gryffindor version of Mclaggen (Which would be Nessie-Code for Slytherin-McLaggen's little brother.). Alright, so he was only related to, like, seven of them. Point is the same.

"Judging by the way he was staring at you at breakfast yesterday, you're not below his." He muttered, voice sneaky. I opened my mouth to argue back at him, protest in some way, but he gave my knee a sharp pat and pushed himself off the couch, jogging past me and out of the Common Room, probably to go and find some trouble elsewhere.

Well… Crap, he'd seen that? I thought no one had noticed except for me… And if he'd seen, maybe other people had. Like _Blaise_. Uck.

Let me take the moment of panic to share with you my knowledge of Scorpius's older-bitchier-cousin. You know all those things I tell you that we're not _really_? Like, superior, stuck-up, elitist bitches? Yeah- Blaise is _all_ of those things. He's good looking, yeah, _really_ good looking (Like Usher- that American muggle music guy? But in teenage and half-white version? Mmm, so good looking.), but he's also one of those people that make you just want to…. Slap them. _Hard_. There was this period of time in fifth year that we sort of… dating. Yeah, not my most proud moment. I dunno- Like I said, he was so good looking, and he was from a nice old pureblood family, and he was a Slytherin.

Let me tell you something- that kid likes to talk about himself. And talk, and talk, and _talk_. And when he took me to Madame Puddifoot's (Yuck. Yuck. Yuck.) he ordered for me. It was our first date- there so no possible way he could know what I wanted to eat. As proof of this, he ordered me a salad. A _salad_. I broke up with him. Obviously. Vegetables aren't my thing and neither are chauvinistic jackassian gorgeous boys.

He doesn't like me anymore than I like him now- I don't reckon he'd been dumped before and it stung him a little. Plus, well, he disapproves of any Slytherin that doesn't him or herself above the general population of Hogwarts. And he knows that I help out Marianne in Potions sometimes- so he thinks I might as well not be a Slytherin at all. Bah. Blaise Zabini gives me the uber creeps. Legit goosebumps.

Anyway- if he thought I was associating with James Potter in any way that wasn't negative you can be pretty sure that he'd be writing home to his mummy about it- who would in turn write to Score's mummy, who would write to mine, who would tell my dad, who would either write me about it, or tell my grandfather- who would write me. It would just be making a big deal out of literally nothing.

If our last conversation was any indication, Potter and I wouldn't be talking again any time soon.

I pushed myself off of the couch and stood up, brushing imaginary dust off of my clothing and smoothing out wrinkles. Time to walk- no more thinking about James Potter or Blaise Zabini, or any other guys. I was still too fidgety to try and sit down for homework- besides, I had all weekend for that- and it was way too early to think about bed just yet. I wanted to get out of the Dungeons for just a bit, breath in some fresh afternoon air.

The halls were active, it was Friday so all the students were buzzing and happy to be free of classes for another couple of days. I twitched a little bit, wishing for some sort of quiet.

The sounds of people's voices were just annoying to me at that moment. I wanted a less crowded place- so I found one. The Trophy Room was nearly always empty. I know, _shocking_ right? You'd think teenage students would love to get a sense of their school's history. But no- the trophy room is just a boring place where naughty children are forced to spend detentions. People avoid it if they can, and tolerate it if they cannot. It would be empty and quiet as always. The staircase was empty enough, at least.

But when I found my way to the door, I heard bumps, and thuds, and shouting on the other side. Naturally, I hesitated to enter- There were a number of unseemly things that could be going on behind that door- ones I did not particularly want a front seat view of. But then I heard a very loud thump- and a cry of; "Ouch! You git! I'll kill you, Malfoy!" and I decided that if Scorpius was behind the door, I probably should intervene with whatever was going on.

So, I shoved the door open.

To my horror, Scorpius was rolling around on the ground with a scrawny, lankly little scrap of Potter- Potter-Junior to be precise. Neither of them seemed to notice me- they were too busy attempting to beat the snot out of each other. It was hardly a fair fight- Scorpius was fit and tall. Albus was tall- true- but he was all skin and bones. Scrawny- no muscle. If I didn't stop them, there was no doubt that Scorpius would hurt him- and he'd regret it later. He wouldn't admit it, but he'd feel guilty. He liked fighting bigger lads- lads who deserved to be fought, and could fight back easily.

No matter how annoying Potter was, and no matter what he'd said about Score's family, he really couldn't fight back effectively.

"Scorpius!" I shouted, flinging myself into the knot of limbs and trying to pry them apart. "Score! Stop it- he's not worth it!" A knobby elbow caught me in the mouth, splitting my lip. Luckily I was able to catch Potter's wrist as it happened, and drag him away from Scorpius' fists.

He struggled, predictably, and tried to kick me until he realized that I wasn't trying to beat him to a bloody pulp. He blinked at me in surprise, which turned to horror after he saw the bloody lip he'd given me. "Nott- Sorry, I-" To be honest, it hurt, but his injuries looked a lot worse. A swollen and cut buttom lip, bloody nose, and what promised to be a gruesome black eye.

"Nessa!" Score seemed to have regained a form of sense as well, "Merlin- are you okay?" He too looked worse off, his nose bleeding and looking slightly wonky- as if maybe Potter had landed a good hit, and possibly broken it.

I fixed him with a glare, "I'm fine- although I don't know what's wrong with you two- isn't one fight a week enough?" I snapped, keeping a firm grip on Potter's wrist with one hand and dabbing the blood off of my lip with the sleeve of my other. "You're like a child. I just saw you not five minutes ago and already you're into trouble!" I scolded Score, half-mocking.

He grinned at me, then winced and put a hand up to his nose, trying to stop the blood. "Stop exaggerating, Mother- it was at least ten minutes ago." What a state to be teasing in- nose broken and bleeding like that.

I turned back to Albus, narrowing my eyes up at him. He had to be at least six feet tall- probably more. All skin and bones, and unruly black hair. "I didn't mean to hit you- really, I didn't-" He tried to explain, "I was aiming for _that_ git."

"_Do_ shut up." I told him, holding my finger up to his nose. I had to resist the urge to swat at him. Really, the brat had no idea how to stay on people's good sides. First, he gets in a fight with my b-f-f, then he elbows me, and _then_ he calls said b-f-f a git? Is that supposed to promote warm and fuzzy feelings? I think _not_. "Your brother's already pissed about one fight- why would you start another? Stupid Gryffindor." I dropped his wrist and wagged my finger at him in a scolding sort of manner.

Potter didn't say anything to that, just glared at Scorpius. Scorpius looked a bit sheepish, still trying to staunch the flow of blood from his nose. "I started this one, actually." He said, in a high-pitched sort of voice.

I gaped at him, "_Scorpius_," I said, in an utterly horrified voice, "Pick on people your own size!"

"Hey! I'm just as tall as him!" Protested Albus Potter in a whiny voice. What a dweeby little tosser. Scorpius and I snorted simultaneously and raised eyebrows at him. "Well- I _am_!" He repeated, wiping at the blood under his nose and on his lips with his sleeve, staining the rumpled white fabric crimson.

Why exactly did I stop Score from really doing this kid some damage? I should have just let him knock some sense into him. "You gotta go to the Hospital Wing, Score- I think your nose is broken." I said, feeling a bit less mean, and more concerned about the fact that his wonky nose was still bleeding.

A genuine look of horror crossed Scorpius' face, his jaw dropped, and his eyes grew wide. "Merlin- what if my nose goes all wonky forever? My face-"

"I think it looks better." Interrupted Albus with a snide little smirk.

Scorpius shot him a venomous glare, once that made Potter flinch a little, "Fuck off, Potter. Making me uglier won't make you any prettier." He snapped, and shoved past us, taking the stairs two at a time in his hurry- either to get to the Hospital Wing or to get _away_ from Albus Potter.

The lanky scrap frowned and blink, "But you _just_ said I had a nice arse! You can't say I'm not good looking now! That makes _no_ sense!" He looked at me in a confused manner, "That's why I hit him- he said I had a nice arse…" His freckly skin went mildly pink.

Ew. Weird. I leaned around Potter to get a better look at his arse. I suppose it wasn't _bad_. Small, firm-looking, not nearly as nice as his brother's- Jackassian-Elder-Potter had a _really_ nice arse. "Yeah, maybe he was lying to get you to hit him? Your arse isn't as nice as your brother's, and Score's never complimented his arse before," I told Potter-Junior honestly, tilting my head, "Don't see why he'd compliment yours."

"Ew. Slytherins are so weird." Muttered Albus, stepping away from me and covering his arse with both hands.

I snorted at him and walked back up the stairs. So much for finding somewhere quiet. 

* * *

_Sorry this took so long. ): Thanks so much to everyone reviewed, though! Please continue to do so?  
_


	5. Saturday

**The fabulous J. K. Rowling owns it all- except for the little cliche plot and the original characters.**

I didn't roll out of bed until almost noon on Saturday- it had felt like an alarmingly long week, I guess- and there'd been a lot going on. You know, regrowing skin Tuesday night, shooting hate beams at Potter Wednesday morning, breaking up a fight between my second favorite and least favorite sixth years the day before. Not to mention the way I just hate to wake up.

I've been known to skip Hogsmeade trips in lieu of staying in bed all day. Only a couple of times though.

When I did wake up, all of my most loving and magnificent roommates were already out and about. Maybe doing homework, maybe lounging out by the lake. I didn't really care at all. My roommates and I weren't really super close, in case you hadn't noticed. I tolerated them, usually, and they tolerated me, but we didn't _hang_. No- it was probably sad that the majority of my time was spent with Alex and his friends. All adorable little sixth year, a whole year younger than me. Maybe if I had more friends my own age I wouldn't be so outnumbered by James Potter and his mob.

I got dressed and went to the dorm- where I found Alex and Scorpius lounging- without Monty and Mimi.

"Morning, my little ducklings!" I purred to them, sliding into place beside Alex, and placing a kiss on the top of his head.

He wiped it away, predictably, and fixed his hair back into place. "It's hardly morning," He pointed out, "Even Scorpius woke up a couple of hours ago."

My eyes flicked towards Scorpius, scanning over his face. Madame Pomfrey had fixed his nose perfectly, apparently. That was good. At least now he wouldn't have to go after Potter-Junior again to avenge his perfect bone-structure. "It's true, I'm ashamed to say." Scorpius snickered, with a shrug.

I flicked Alex's ear, glaring at him, "You mock me!" I exclaimed in an appalled tone, and then held out my hand expectantly, "What did you scavenge for me from breakfast?" They both rolled their eyes at me, before Alex pointed to a plate on the coffee table (How had I not noticed it before? The sweet, sweet smell of bacon and waffles- the refreshing goblet of chocolate milk. Oh, Alex, you've out done yourself, dear brother of mine!), waiting for me to devour the food upon it. "Oh, you two treat your loving sister too well!" I praised them, before digging in.

It was cold, but still good.

"So Nessie…" Scorpius started, voice slightly tentative. That's weird. I've heard Scorpius' voice a lot of ways- mostly sarcastic and snappy, sometimes sweet and persuasive like honey, other times threaded with concern, or barely concealed disgust- but tentative was a new tone. "We heard something along the grapevine at breakfast today."

I stopped eating to look back and forth from him to Alex. Both of them suddenly looked very nervous and uncomfortable. I scratched my head, tilting it slightly to one side. "Okay…?"

My brother shifted uncomfortably, and coughed nervously, wringing his hands. "It's about you, and, um…"

"Potter- the older one," Scorpius finished for him.

"Jackassian Elder?"

"Yeah," Said Alex, refusing to meet my eyes. "They posted the Hogwarts weekend dates, and next week is one." He went on.

Scorpius took my fork and knife away from me, as if he expected me to stab someone with them once I heard the whole point of this conversation. "And apparently Potter- the older one- is looking for you, so he can ask you."

The both stared at me.

I stared back, waiting for them to finish telling me the story.

Silence.

"Ask me… what?" I prompted, speaking slowly as if to particularly stupid children.

They exchanged a look again. "Ask you to Hogsmeade." Replied Scorpius, in the same voice I had used.

The words sank in, slowly.

Very slowly. Retracing. Hogsmeade visit next Saturday. James Potter looking for me. To ask me to Hogsmeade.

I blinked, feeling like I was missing something. "Like… on a date?" I asked in a blank sort of voice.

"No, Ness, on an outing for enemies." Snapped Scorpius in a sarcastic voice, narrowing his grey eyes at me, "Of course on a date- what other reasons do fit guys ask fit girls to Hogsmeade for?"

For the time we can ignore that Scorpius called both myself and James Potter 'fit' and instead rage and seethe over the fact that Potter would have the audacity to ask me to Hogsmeade. "Why would he ask me on a date?" I asked them angrily, "That stupid tosser- he's still hung up about the stupid acid thing-"

"Maybe he saw your- you knows-" Score gestured to my chest, "when he was dragging you the Hospital Wing, and decided he wanted to see them again when you're not writhing in pain."

Alex and I both lunged at him and hit him for that.

No one's allowed to talk about my breasts like that but me. Stupid git.

After we'd decided that Scorpius had been adequately fake-beaten up, Alex asked a very good question; "What're you going to do?"

I snorted, quirking my eyebrow at him. "Tell him to toss off and ask some Ravenclaw floozy?" I certainly wasn't going to _go_ with him _that_ was for sure. Anger and confusion were crashing over me in waves. Why would Potter even think about asking me? Last time I talked to him we weren't exactly jolly chums- we didn't like each other.

This made no sense.

"I think we should just lay low- you know, hang out in the Common Room. He can't get in here." Alex said, in a very concerned voice, brown eyes big and earnest.

He's so bloody adorable. "That won't really do any good, Alex." I told him, giving him a little hug around the shoulders.

Scorpius nodded his agreement, "Yeah, she's got at least four classes with him. He'll just ask her in one of those if he can't find her this weekend. I say we face the problem head on."

Now, you might think this is all one big overreaction. However- it is _not_. This is war. It always was when it came to us and Gryffindors. Hogwarts was the battlefield, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws the bystanders, mind games the weapons. _That_ was what Potter was doing- he was trying to mess with my head. It made sense- it was _smart_. But I wasn't falling for that codswallop. As if I was _that_ stupid. "Now lads," I told them, standing up off the couch and holding my hands up, palms outwards in a 'wait a moment' sort of gesture. "This isn't a 'we' sort of thing. This is a 'me' thing." When Alex tried to protest, I shushed him, "I'm a big girl, honest. Tie my own trainers and everything. Besides. You guys would hate it if I started telling you what to do with all the girls of blokes who wanted to ask you out." Alex shrugged, at if he didn't really care that much, but Scorpius suddenly found his shoes really interesting.

Hmmm… I'd have to press that issue further at a later date. Right now I had an annoying Jerk of a Potter to set straight.

They looked sourly after me as I left the Common Room, and I felt a bit guilty. But really, I already had enough of their worries. It wasn't such a big deal. All I had to do was shoot him down. Preferably as cruelly as possible, so that he never entertained a more than negative thought of me again.

The halls were buzzing with activity- I was surprised that more people weren't outside, but I suppose one can only spend so much time on the grounds. They'd all probably gotten it out of their systems and wanted to behave like hooligans indoors.

"_Nessieeeee_!" Long, slender arms were suddenly wrapped around my neck, and I felt the rather unsubstantial weight of Pleiome on my back, clinging to me. "You're awake! Lovely- have Scorpius and Alex told you?" The last question was in a quieter voice, more like a whisper.

I pried her arms away, unsure if I should laugh at the horror in her voice or groan at the way everyone seemed to have known before me. I guess that was what I got for sleeping so late. "Yeah, Mimi. They told me." I admitted to her.

She rolled her eyes, "Gryffindors are _such_ a burden, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are." I agreed heartily.

"More importantly- I'm thinking about taking Harfang back. I mean…. It's not like he meant to forget that my favorite color is lavender, right?" Oh- right; Harfang. _That_ was Monty's first name.

Merlin, no wonder the poor bloke sticks to his last. What kind of name is _Harfang_?

"Uhm… Right. What color did he think it was?"

"Purple!"

"…Right. Yeah. I think you should take him back. You two are good together." Lavender and purple were… the same color. Right?

The blond girl thought for a moment, considering this. And then smiled broadly; "We are, aren't we? And I _do_ love him."

"And _he_ loves _you_." I supplied, shaking my head good-naturedly and wondering how a girl could be like Mimi and not drive me completely insane. I suppose if it was anyone but her I'd be laughing at her behind her back, but there was just something lovable about the fifteen year old that kept me adoring her.

She sighed dreamily, "Yes, he does. Did you know he sent me flowers and chocolates this morning? Really lovely ones." Her slender arm was linked with mine, as we walked through the halls, and she grinned down at me, "I should go find him."

Pleiome didn't even wait for my reply before dropping my arm and gracefully sweeping away, her skirt swishing around her long legs.

"She's pretty."

I jumped about ten feet in the air at Potter's voice, shuddering violently. How creepy was he? Just popping up out of no where to whisper crap in my ear? I turned around to face him and took several steps back. "Duh."

His eyebrows rose, but instead of commenting further, he said. "Will you take a walk with me? I promise I won't hound you about being nice to you or demand you conform to stereotypes." He winked at me.

The nerve. How dare he wink at me? "… I think I already know what you want." I said, testing the waters tentatively.

He gave a casual shrug. "No harm in coming with me anyway then, is there?"

That was a highly debatable point. I could think of about a billion reasons why there was harm in walking with him."I suppose not. Just don't touch me." I warned him.

Potter grinned broadly at me, "Wouldn't dream of it, Nessie."

We headed toward the grounds in silence, casting each other glances when we thought they would go unnoticed. I don't know what he kept looking at me, but I was trying to size him up. Decide how well he'd be able to defend himself if I jumped on his back and pulled his hair. My conclusion was not promising- I decided he could probably defend himself very well, what with his muscles and tallness. He was a beater on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and while he was not as tall as his younger brother or Scorpius, he certainly wasn't short. Taller than Zabini Jr. and Monty, at least. I dared not attack unless I was sure I would have the upper hand.

"So…" Potter began, as we walked out onto the lawn, "No touching?"

I glared at him.

"Right. No touching." His fingers brushed my elbow anyway. 'So you already know what I wanted to talk about?" He asked, sounding casual and uncaring.

I refused to look at him, keeping my gaze forward and directed toward the lake. "Yes. I think." I said bluntly, voice as cold as I could make it.

It'd be quick and easy- like a band aid. He'd be less inclined to ever try again if I was cold and indifferent, right? Right.

"Well, wanna go to Hogsmeade with me?"

"No." I answered instantly.

He stopped walking, and considered me for a moment; "I can see you gave this a lot of thought." Was his unsurprised reply.

I cut him a sharp glance. "Well, I don't like you."

"You might." He shot back.

Doubtful. Very doubtful. "Aren't we the optimist?"

"Yes. We are." His hand shot out, and before I had the full ability to realize was he was doing, he'd grabbed my hand. "Look. I'll settle for just a spot to drink at the Leaky Cauldron and then we can go our separate ways. Give me an hour, and if you don't want to spend any more time with me I'll leave you alone."

His hand felt large and warm around mine, but I yanked it away, tilting my head at him curiously. "Why?" I asked.

He shrugged; "I don't know. I think you're interesting. I'd like to know more about you. Why _not_?"

I examined Potter's face carefully. His lightly tanned skin, the freckles that dotted his face, the set of his jaw, the way his chin was somewhat rounded. More so than his little brother's at least. His rectangular framed glasses were slightly askew, as usual. "Because, I don't like you." I told him, meeting his hazel eyes with resolve.

A smirk curved on his lips; "But you like my _arse_."

"Absurd. I've never admitted to such a thing."

"Yes, you did. Last night? To my brother."

"Outrageous! The very thought of it!" I protested, waving my hands wildly, in my best impression of my mother. If anyone could put off a determined and misguided suitor, she could. Despite the fact that her and my father had been happily married for twenty years or so plenty of thick-headed foreigners seemed to think they could charm their way into her bed. Thirty years ago it was quite common for upper class women to take men besides their husbands into bed- as it was for men to do the same- but that was when arranged marriages were more… arranged.

His smirk only grew, and one hand reached up to ruffle his already ridiculously messy hair. "Come on, Nott. No shame in it. It's a spectacular arse." Potter teased; his voice playful and light. All together too aggravating.

I narrowed my eyes at him; "Oh, please. My arse is ten times better than yours."

"I never said that your arse wasn't also exemplary." He pointed out; "I just thought we were talking about my arse at the moment. If you wanted me to compliment your buttocks all you had to do was ask."

I made an indignant noise at him; "Leave me alone. Don't ever ask me out again. Tell your little brother to leave my friend alone- and stop insulting his family. If he does it again I'll hex him personally."

"I'm sure Albus will quake in fear at the mere thought." Replied Potter sarcastically. "However, I'm not giving up. You'll find that I can be very persistent."

"You'll find that once my mind is made up it's impossible to change."

"Good thing I'm also very persuasive."

"Bugger off, Potter."

"Mhm. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Nott?"

"Oh, _so_ very much. I _want_ you, I _need_ you, take me, Potter- I'm _yours_." What a jerk- I injected as much venom into my voice as possible, practically hissing the words at him.

He wiggled his fingers at me teasingly; "Hissy, hissy, little snaky. Slither on back to your boyfriend now. I'll ask you out again tomorrow." His smirk was so smug and self-assured- like he knew I'd agree then- that I wanted to slap him.

_No. Good purebloods don't slap people_, I reminded myself. _Not even nasty self assured Potters who think too much of themselves._ That was probably the one pureblood rule I would never break and Scorpius was always much too willing to. Not necessarily slapping- hitting in general. My hands still trembled with the urge, so I locked them behind my back, simultaneously focusing on wiping all traces of anger and annoyance from my face.

From the way that self-assured smirk on Potter's face melted away into dumb confusion, I succeeded. I smiled pleasantly up at him, tilting my head to one side and letting my hair fall forward over my shoulder. His eyes slipped down to follow the motion, focused on my pale neck instead of my face. What a completely and utterly predictable _Gryffindor, _not letting them go any further than my neck_. _ "I'll be waiting with baited breath. It should be at breakfast next time. Then I can humiliate you _publicly_." I kept my voice sweet- not sickly so, just innocent and light. As if I intended them kindly.

His eyes, no longer confused, narrowed immediately; "Merlin, Nott. You sure know how to sweet talk a guy."

I fluttered my eyelashes at him.

A stupid grin grew on his face. Merlin, couldn't this guy make up his mind? He was only just annoyed, and now he was grinning. "You're scared, aren't you?" He asked, voice poking, prying, and begging for me to let him in.

It was my turn to be confused. "Scared?" I asked; "Of what? You're superior intellect? Your strapping physique?"

The grin only grew; "Scared that you're too attracted to me? That you won't be able to control yourself? That you want to touch me, and talk to me, and _whisper dirty things_ in my ear during class?" He took several steps forward as he said it, and leaned his tall frame down, whispering the last bit in my ear. "Scared of ruining your perfect little pureblood image by dating a Potter? Or maybe that your daddy will disinherit you if you do?"

I blinked up at him, not taking a step backward or pushing him away. I just stared up at his serious hazel eyes, fighting off the urge to laugh in his face. "There's nothing to disinherit."

"What?" He asked, blinking back, tilting his head curiously. "You liar- your family is ages old- I've seen you at Ministry functions, and some of those other fancy parties- you're parents are loaded-"

"Yes," I interrupted him, "my parents are."

"Don't be thick," He shot back, "they've got to leave me something."

Merlin, didn't he know _anything_? Apparently not. "They can't- if there's a male heir available it all goes to him. My brother's the one who inherits everything. I'll get a dowry of course- if I marry. But that's it. Pureblooded girls are expected to marry into money."

His jaw dropped; "You're joking."

I shrugged; "It's an old rule- none of the old families can leave money to a daughter if a son is available." It had never bothered me before. It wasn't like, if I never married (which seemed likely) or I never found a good way to support myself after my mum and dad died, Alex wouldn't take care of me. We'd spoken of it before. Neither of us wanted to live extravagantly, and there was plenty of money for both of us if we found no other option. But I planned on working anyway- I _wanted_ to work. And my parents wanted to support me financially for as long as I needed it. Maybe if we weren't so bloody rich I'd care more, but I know very well there's no shortage of gold for us.

"That's so- so-"

"Pureblood?" I snapped, eyes narrowing at him, "Yeah. That's sort of the point."

"Barbaric!" He corrected. "What sorts of people do that?"

Of course, a _Potter_ wouldn't know. Their blood had been diluted ages back, and he'd never been brought up on such principles. "Ones that lived one hundred years ago, and were in fear of extinction? I don't know Potter- but it hardly matters."

He frowned, and looked like he was going to argue, but instead asked; "So who are you going to marry?"

I realized with a sort of jolt that we were still very close- neither of us had moved away since he'd bent down and whispered in my ear. "…What?" I asked, somewhat stupidly.

"You said you're expected to marry into money. Who?" He clarified, face hardening fractionally.

I blinked.

He blinked back.

I shrugged.

His eyes narrowed; "What, don't you care at all? Don't you care about anything?" His voice sounded so irrationally angry.

I guess that's Gryffindors for you, though. Over emotional and all up in other people's business. Irrationally upset about other people's lives. "Of course I care. I just don't want to marry anyone. My grandfather is pulling for Scorpius- but that'd never work. I want to get a job after school anyway."

"Why not? You two are friends. He's good looking. You're good looking."

"I lack certain equipment he finds necessary in a partner." I spoke it nonchalantly, not wanting to make him think too much about it.

_Certain equipment that your little brother happens to have. _Something in my mind clicked at that thought.

Oh dear. _Scorpius_. Liked a Potter. That explained everything. Why he was picking fights- the arse comments. The way he'd avoided my eyes when I talked about love lives this morning.

That poor lad. I needed to get him so chocolate and get him to cuddle up on the couch with me. He'd need it. Albus Potter was a straight arrow if I ever saw one- a whiny one, but straight none the less. He seemed so… out of the ordinary for Scorpius. I'd seen him dragging random foreign boys off to the corners when he got pissed at parties. He liked sturdier lads than Albus- that was for sure. Broader shoulders, dark hair (At least Potter had that) but typically with tan smooth skin. Nothing like scrawny lanky Albus Potter with his bright green eyes and all those freckles.

Poor Scorpius.

I threaded my fingers through my hair, and fluffed it out absent-mindedly.

"… Nott?" Apparently I'd been ignoring Potter. He didn't appear happy about it, because he was leaning in really close, his nose nearly touching mine. "What is your devious little mind mulling over?"

I shrugged, "If one of our minds is devious, it's definitely yours." I told him, mentally arguing the smile that wanted to form on my face.

No, lips. We don't smile at Potters. Not even ones that are somewhat attractive, have a very nice arse, and manage to look slightly dorky but in a way you never knew you thought was cute.

_Not even for those freckles?_

Nope.

_Or that devious little mind?_

Absolutely not. Potters are bad. Bad, bad, bad.

Apparently they also have some twisted way of pulling in normally sensible purebloods. First Score, now me?

Damn you, Harry Potter. Damn you for siring these black-haired, freckly boys.

* * *

_Hmmm. Not sure how I feel about this chapter. Let me know what you think!  
_


	6. Pillow Talk and Porn

"Nessie…" Alex crawled across his bed toward me, and tried to snuggle up. I decided to let him- just this once. Only because he was bloody adorable and I wanted to snuggle with him forever. Like when we were little kids and there was an awful thunderstorm. I wrapped my arms around him and leaned my head onto his shoulder. "What happened with Potter?" There was some genuine worry in his voice, and I felt awful.

"Hmmm. I told him to bugger off, and he said he'd ask me again tomorrow." I shrugged, "And I'll tell him no again then. Don't worry about me, Alex."

He didn't answer for a while. "Potter has a reputation, Ness…"

"Damn right he does," Agreed Monty, from where he was playing chess with Scorpius by the window. "I wouldn't be surprised if he'd shagged with every girl in Gryffindor."

"Excluding his relatives." I added.

"Which leaves an admittedly low number of girls he's shagged." Snorted Scorpius in amusement, switching some pieces around the board to his advantage while Monty had his attention directed at Alex and I.

We all snickered, although Alex and I were snickering for a different reason than Monty.

I wiggled away from my little brother, and went to perch on the edge of Scorpius' bed, watching the match up close. "Well, he won't have a chance to besmirch mine." I reached forward and tugged on a strand of Scorpius' hair. He swiveled his head to look at me, and as he did, Monty switched around a few more pieces.

They'd long since given up playing wizard's chess. It was too hard to cheat at that, because the pieces always tattled on you.

"Yes?" Scorpius sighed at me.

I gave him a pointed look. "I want to talk to you at some point. Alone. About last night?"

"Last night?" Asked Alex, looking confused.

Monty snorted. "I'm guessing that's not what it sounds like."

"It's not." Scorpius glared at them. "She just caught me in a fight with Albus Potter again."

Monty whistled; "Really tough, Score. Beating up that little bean pole."

Alex looked at him curiously; "If you beat up Potter too many times, I'm pretty sure Rose Weasley will never even look at me. So please ease up on him."

"Rose Weasley?" I asked in a huffy voice, narrowing my eyes at him; "What about Rose Weasley?"

Alex picked at his comforter.

"Oh Alex. No." I pleaded, "Please no. Not a Weasley!"

"You Notts must have a magnetic attraction to Weasley blood." Monty sneered.

I threw a pillow at him.

Alex pushed his chair over. "Don't be a prat. Rose is hot. Even you have to admit to that."

"She's a _ginger_," I spat, as if that explained everything, "and a _Weasley_," Because that _did_ explain everything.

He just shrugged. "Well," said Score slowly, "since I'm sure you'll all known soon enough- and I think Ness already knows," He shot me a 'you ruin everything' look, "I sort of think Albus Potter is a bit good looking." He paused. "A bit."

We all groaned.

"Didn't you learn you lesson about fancying straight guys with that French bloke?" Asked Monty in a 'you're such an idiot' voice. We all heard the underlying concern in it.

"Technically," corrected Score, "he was bisexual. Because I _did_ get him in the sack."

"And then he ran off with some American floozy." Pointed out Alex.

Score shrugged; "It wasn't like I really liked him anyway."

"You locked yourself in your room for a week." Monty corrected.

"Refused meals." I added in horror, because I couldn't imagine being upset enough to not eat.

He waved a hand dismissively at these accusations. "I was just upset because he got to the punch before I did. You know I don't really stick with one person for long." That was admittedly true. "And I lived on the chocolate under the loose floorboard under my bed." He gave a shrug.

Next time we visited Malfoy Manor I was so finding that loose floorboard.

Alex told me a few weeks ago that it was also where Score hid his skin mags.

Chocolate and pictures of naked buff men? The thing was a treasure trove.

"Potter doesn't seem your type." Alex tried a new tactic.

Scorpius looked out the window, propped his chin up in his hand, and sighed. "He's not." It sounded wistful.

Alex, Monty, and I all exchanged concerned looks. "Score…" I put a hand on his shoulder, "not to tell you how to woo someone or anything, but giving them a black eye probably isn't the best tactic." Monty snorted. "Shut up, _Harfang_." I snapped at him.

That at least, made Scorpius snort with laughter.

"You shut up, _Nesrine_." He shot back.

Oh.

No.

He.

Didn't.

"_Don't_," My voice was a low hiss, "_ever call me that_."

Monty looked rather pale.

Scorpius and Alex both broke into giggles.

I glared at them. "That's not funny! You don't know what it's like to have an awful name!" I spat at them.

I'd gone through great efforts to keep my full first name tightly under wraps. Obviously though, the people I'd known since I was a child would already know it. At least none of them called me that in public.

_Nesrine_. What kind of name was _Nesrine_? It sounded like some sort of citrus.

"Scorpius is a pretty awful name." Score pointed out.

"Hmph." I glared at Alex.

He was the only one with a normal name then.

Damn him and his cute puppy-dog little-brother eyes and his non-awful name.

At least he had the dignity to be ashamed of it- because he tried to look small.

"So don't try to beat up Potter again." I told Scorpius, as if none of these interruptions had happened.

The blond shrugged; "I can't help it. He's fun to rile up- and then he actually says something that riles me up, and then we just start hitting each other."

Monty smirked; "Sounds like sexual ten-_sion_ to _me_." His voice was sing-songy and mocking.

"Maybe on my part." Muttered Score, flicking several of his chess pieces down. "But I doubt he even notices it." He sounded miserable. Poor Scorpius.

My shriveled up Slytherin-version of a heart twinged a bit for him. He was a good guy- he shouldn't have such a hard time finding a good boyfriend. (Or you know, just not falling for _Potter-Weasleys_.) And really- if Scorpius Malfoy couldn't resist Potter-Weasley seduction, what hope did the rest of us really have? Only Monty was truly safe.

Not that I planned on falling prey to James Potter and his… shenanigans. The very idea was laughable. He simply wasn't my type.

No, I liked serious boys. Serious, stuck-up, pureblood boys.

Obviously. Short little James Potter with his messy curls, dorky glasses, and goofy grin did not appeal to me in any way, shape, or form. Now that I thought of it, he had really wonky eyebrows too. They were very… triangular.

"I dunno…" Alex said thoughtfully, tapping his chin. "I've actually always thought Potter might be a little… gay. You know? He's never dated anyone- as far as I know he's never even had an interest in anyone. And he definitely stared at Euan Wood when he went running around the Great Hall naked last year. Way more than any straight bloke would."

Scorpius face went a little dreamy. "I remember that. Wood had a great arse."

"Mmm. Yes, he did." I agreed whole-heartedly, licking my lips at the memory.

Monty pulled a face. "One; Gross. Two; That doesn't mean anything. Everyone stared at Wood. He was in the buff. Running. Around the Great Hall. And then Professor Longbottom started chasing him and it was just _hilarious_…"

As usual, we didn't pay Monty much mind. "I heard Wood's doing a spread in Playwitch…" I went on absent-mindedly.

"So buying it." Score replied.

"Share?"

"I am not going to share my porn with you. That would be so weird."

"Selfish boy."

Alex intervened; "This is really uncomfortable for me to listen to. Can we stop now?"


End file.
